


A Bond Beyond Blood

by avidbeader



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Vampire Sheith Week, Vampire Sheith Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-12-27 00:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21109868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avidbeader/pseuds/avidbeader
Summary: Shiro has enjoyed centuries of life as a vampire. And then he meets Keith.Written for Vampire Sheith Week 2019 Day 1:Sire/Transformation





	1. Sire

**Author's Note:**

> Eternal thanks as always to [Latart0903](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Latart0903/pseuds/Latart0903) for her most excellent beta skills.

The streamers shimmer over his door, framing a bright holographic sign: _ Happy birthday, Shiro! _

Shiro reaches through the shiny light show so he can place his hand on the scanner and unlock his door, guessing what is awaiting him inside. A door opens across from him, and the querulous old Bitor who has been Shiro’s neighbor for the last two years leans out.

“Thought your birthday was four moons and eight rotations ago, Mr. Shirogane.”

“It is, Mr. Slav. February 29 by the old Earth calendar. This is a private joke from a friend.” Shiro steps through the streamers and into the relative safety of his apartment before he can be trapped into a conversation.

Once inside, he sets his messenger bag in the nearest chair and kicks off his shoes, depositing them into the waiting rack near the door. There are two sets not his own: the silver sandals are Allura’s and the perfectly polished loafers must be Lotor’s. Two sleek suitcases sit next to the rack. His preternaturally sharp hearing picks up their presence, moving about in the kitchen.

They of course heard him as well. Allura appears around the corner and flings her arms around him. “Happy second birthday, Shiro!” 

Lotor is following her, hanging back respectfully. He and Allura have known each other for over a millennium, but he recognizes the bond Allura has with Shiro. Of the vampires she has sired in her long life, Shiro is the only one who has both survived more than a century and is still close to her.

Shiro returns her embrace, feeling his mild frustrations melt away as he buries his nose in her long white hair and takes in her scent, that tantalizing blend of alien flowers with a sharp metallic tinge. He knows, thanks to his own long experience, that the chilly undertone is something all vampires have in common, no matter their origin. 

Allura releases him long enough for Lotor to approach. As always, Lotor begins with formality, offering a hand to shake before pulling Shiro into a one-armed hug. Allura beams at them and Shiro resolves to put up with Lotor’s overinflated ego. There’s really not enough of their kind in the universe to let small things fester and ruin friendships, although it happens anyway.

“So, how does it feel to be four hundred years old?” Lotor asks as he slaps Shiro’s metal bicep in camaraderie. They move into the front room, the window’s heavy curtains pulled open and showing the dazzling skyline of Daibazaal’s capital at night.

“Four hundred twenty-seven, and it feels fine.” Shiro has yet to let go of counting his human years as part of his lifespan. Maybe if he reaches a thousand like Allura and Lotor he’ll stop, but he still remembers and values his time as a human back on Earth. He will be forever grateful to Allura for saving him, but never wants to let those memories go.

Lotor smirks in a patronizing manner but doesn’t pursue it. He looks Shiro up and down, taking in the casual clothes and glasses perched on his face. “Still playing at being an author?” He brushes an imaginary speck of dust from the sleeve of his Saaravithian spider-silk jacket.

“It’s a simple enough explanation for being a night owl and having a steady income,” Shiro retorts as he takes off the non-prescription lenses and sets them aside. He turns to Allura. “How have things been for you?”

She gives an elegant shrug. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Lotor snorts, letting out a quiet and sophisticated puff of air. “Oh, really? Not going to tell him about your next acquisition?”

Allura glares. Shiro’s eyebrows shoot up. “You have someone in mind, then?”

Once or twice a century, Allura finds someone to turn. Her choices meet very specific criteria, even if Allura isn’t aware of half of them. The potential vampires are attractive, show a strong moral code and regard for others, and are on death’s doorstep. Allura shrugs over the first—she sees no harm in liking pretty things—and is adamant about the last. She will not take someone who has years or decades left in their first life.

And she always makes it a choice.

_ Takashi woke from a light doze, his body wracked with spasms of pain. It was late, faint moonlight shining through the window. His mother wasn’t in the chair by his bedside and he hoped she was getting some much-needed rest herself. She had been so single-minded in her goal of taking Takashi to London, to the sanatorium that claimed to have a cure for his disease. Hearing from the doctors that it had progressed too far had not surprised him. He had felt it on the long sea voyage: the tingles in his arms and legs spreading, the cramps developing in his hands and feet and working their way up. _

_ The doctors had tried. Takashi had worn the weighted bands on his wrists and ankles so that any movement worked the muscles. He had taken their herbal concoctions and eaten the protein-heavy meals. But the symptoms had steadily worsened. He tired too quickly now and required a wheelchair if he left his bed for longer than a few minutes. He knew he would never see Japan again and suspected he would not live to summer’s end. _

_ The directors of the sanatorium were not wasting their opportunity. Takashi was young and handsome with a condition that was invisible enough to provoke pity instead of disgust. The fact that his family were cultured foreigners who had sacrificed so much to bring him here spoke well of the institution’s reputation. Every few days had seen yet another potential patron escorted to his room, using his impending death as a prompt to open their wallets. _

_ The visitor from earlier in the evening was back, a Lady Allura Altea. Takashi had not caught her exact rank; while his command of English was strong, he was not well-versed in the intricacies of the British aristocracy. He attempted to sit up and groaned as his muscles throbbed with pain. _

_ She moved to his side instantly and eased him back to the bed. “None of that, my dear. We shall not waste time with manners right now.” _

_ He tried to reply and only managed a rasping sound from a dry throat. Lady Altea poured him a glass of water from the ewer on the nearby table and helped him to drink. He was mildly surprised when she lifted him easily. He might not be able to control his body well anymore, but it was still broad and muscled from his efforts to stave off the deterioration. _

_ “My lady?” _

_ “Shh, Mr. Shirogane. Don’t talk yet. Just listen. I wanted to see you again because I have an offer for you. I have a way to end this illness, which will see you dead in a fortnight if the doctors are correct.” _

_ Takashi let one raised eyebrow convey his skepticism, but his eyes filled with anguish at her prediction. _

_ “My way means a most drastic change. You would not be able to return to your life before. The kindest thing to do would be to allow your ‘death’ to happen and let your family mourn naturally. Explaining your miraculous recovery would lead to far too many questions and too much publicity, and you would have to leave them behind within a decade anyway.” _

_ She paused, appearing to wait for an answer, and Takashi studied her. The hair that he had thought was a very pale blonde looked silver in the light of the moon and the night-lamp. Her eyes were light and sky-blue, nearly luminous, and her smooth skin had a dusky hint that was not the current fashion. _

_ Her expression was serious, showing no hint of a joke at his expense. _

_ And yet she had just promised that she could cure his disease. _

_ “What is this way, if I may ask?” _

_ She studied him in her turn, as if cementing a decision, and opened her mouth, drawing her lips back to expose her teeth. _

_ Her very long and sharp teeth. _

_ Takashi recoiled with a gasp, nearly striking his head against the bed frame. She caught him first and Takashi had the sensation of being a fragile kitten in the careful grasp of a giant. She cradled him briefly before lowering him to his bed once more and Takashi felt no hint of an intent to attack. _

_ “What...what are you?” _

_ “In my tongue, the term is _ soala. _ The English word is a vampire.” _

_ “You’re a _ kyuuketsuki? _ A demon?” _

_ “Not a demon, no. I have no connection to any spiritual realm that I am aware of. I simply need the blood from others in order to survive. Or I did once. I find the longer I live, the weaker the craving has become.” _

_ “So you kill others—killed others, in order to live.” _

_ She set her chin at him. “And is that so different from those who fight in wars, trying to survive the conflict? Do you not eat meat and fish as part of your diet? I have tried very hard over the course of my life to not kill in the process of easing my hunger, and when I do kill it is because the person in question has shown through their actions to be someone of unquestionable evil.” _

_ He wanted to argue the unnaturalness of it or shout for help, but her touch stayed gentle even as her words grew heated. His instincts were telling him that the creature before him followed a code of honor. _

_ “If I say yes?” _

_ “I arrange for you to be moved to another location for your final days. My steward will document your death and arrange for your mother to return to Japan. And after your transformation I will guide you into your new life.” _

_ “If I say no?” _

_ “I will leave you to your natural death and trouble you no more. I only ask that you do not share this conversation with anyone.” _

_ Allura trailed one cool hand down his arm in a comforting gesture. He believed her. _

_ In spite of his logical side, urging him to call for the night nurse on duty, Takashi continued to ask questions: the transformation itself, the practicalities of a nighttime existence, the need to create and maintain wealth to last decades or centuries, the methods of answering the blood-hunger in the most humane ways possible. _

_ As the first hints of dawn illumined the horizon, Allura asked once more. “What is your wish, Mr. Shirogane?” _

_ “I wish to accept your offer, but I want one more day. I want to have a last day in the sun with my mother.” _

_ “I will gladly give that to you.” _

_ Allura was true to her word. Takashi spent the day with his mother, dictating letters to his father and siblings, and basking in the sun’s presence. He left instructions to sell most of his possessions and donate the proceeds to the charity Allura used for her own patronage. This would provide the beginnings of an income for him as he moved into his new life. _

_ Allura’s steward visited in the late afternoon, bringing the promised paperwork allowing him to transfer to a different sanatorium. The steward, a Mr. Coran, deftly convinced Takashi’s mother to accept the proposed move as her grief began to take hold. He also managed a private conversation with Takashi, advising him of the wisdom of changing his identity for the next twenty years or so. He chose the name Haruto Akashiro, promising himself that when enough time had elapsed he would return to his own name somehow. _

_ As the sun set and his mother kissed him a final time, Allura appeared in the doorway. _

_ “Please take care of my son. He is a good man who deserved so much better than this.” _

_ Allura clasped her hands. “I know and I promise. He will be cared for as long as he needs.” _

_ Mr. Coran kindly escorted his mother away, leaving Allura with him. She sat next to him on the bed and took his hands. _

_ “Are you sure you want this, Haruto?” She used his alias deliberately, making certain of his commitment. _

_ He nodded. _

_ “It will hurt, but not for long.” _

_ She leaned forward and, to Takashi’s surprise, smoothed his hair back and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes, basking in the affectionate gesture that held no undercurrent of sorrow. The feeling relaxed him enough that he barely flinched when she moved down and sank her teeth into his neck. _

Allura’s voice recalls him to the present. Lotor has been teasing her about her current target, a young man named Lance. Like Shiro, Lance is from Earth and is currently suffering from a virus contracted in his interplanetary travels. It’s easily cured in the native species, but Lance’s human physiology is a major complication and likely a fatal one. Allura estimates that she still has about a year to insinuate herself into his life and make the offer.

Now, she turns back to Shiro. “What about yourself, Shiro? Is there anyone new in your life?”

She expects a bored denial. There is never anyone new in Shiro’s life. The one time he allowed himself to get close enough to another, close enough to offer to turn him, it did not end well.

Shiro’s face no longer flushes with embarrassment, given that he bears no blood of his own, but he freezes for just a second.

Both Allura and Lotor light up. “There is!” she gushes and leans forward. “Tell us!”

Shiro looks down, not quite ready to share, but this is Allura, who saved his life and provided a constant presence over the centuries since. He can tell her a little about the gorgeous young hybrid who makes his chest flutter as if he still had a heartbeat.

“His name is Keith.”


	2. Glamour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - **Glamour**/Bloodbath

Shiro rather likes Daibazaal. At this point he has lived on over a dozen planets and visited a hundred more, but the capital here calls to him. It combines a sleek modern metropolis with the Galra architecture that reminds him a little of his native Kyoto. The Galra have intermingled with thousands of other species and the streets are full of aliens speaking multiple languages. It makes Shiro think of the big cities back on Earth and he loves the energy.

Over the centuries, Shiro has honed a talent for writing and makes use of it every other identity or so. He began with a travelogue detailing his voyage from Japan to England, using the first pseudonym of his life as a vampire, and it did well enough to add to the financial support that Allura gave him in the first fifty years. He hit his stride in the early 21st century, using Allura’s revelations of having come to Earth from a planet called Altea to create a best-selling series of science fiction novels that remain in print to this day.

Shiro ducks out of the rain and into the little café he discovered several months ago, orders his usual, and looks around. He smiles when he sees Keith, tablet in hand and stylus moving across the screen. Keith does something with the military that requires piloting experience: testing new fighter models, scouting, Shiro’s not sure what. But Keith tends to be gone two to three movements at a time and then back for two movements. He spends the time away from his work sketching in cafés or parks. Keith first attracted Shiro’s notice by virtue of his lovely features: he’s a striking combination of Galra and something, possibly even human. Shiro found his thoughts wandering toward Keith often, even dreaming about him as he slept the day away in his windowless bedroom.

Shiro’s interest solidified the day he noticed that Keith was using an actual paper sketchbook and colored pencils instead of his tablet. Shiro indulged occasionally in writing on paper with pens, reminding himself of the kanji of his childhood. He had approached and broken the ice with a question about using old-fashioned tools and Keith had scoffed at the notion of any true artist rejecting a potential medium simply because it wasn’t the latest technology. By the time their discussion had wound down, it was nearly closing time and the short server with large glasses had yelled at them to trade message IDs already.

By Shiro's four hundred and twenty-seventh birthday—or four hundredth birthday according to his fellow vampires—he and Keith have spent months meeting on an almost nightly basis when Keith is in town. They always converge on the café soon after sunset. If the weather is fine, they take their drinks and find somewhere in the local park to settle. If it’s raining, like tonight, they stay in the café. Keith sketches and Shiro writes and they talk.

Shiro is brainstorming tonight. He’s got the notion to do a volume of short stories, retellings of the ancient Japanese myths and legends he grew up with. He tells Keith so when asked, and Keith visibly perks up.

“Wait, Japan as in Earth-Japan? In Sector X-9-Y?”

“Yes, that’s where I’m from originally. How do you know it?”

Keith smiles, the barest hint of fangs showing his mixed heritage. “My dad was from Earth. My mom used to tell me about him and the time she spent there. Once I build up enough leave-time, I’m going to visit it.”

“That’s amazing. I thought you might have some human in your ancestry, but your dad actually lived there?”

“He did. Born and bred in a place called Texas. My mom used to be part of the security contingent for the premier and they made a state visit. One of their stops was a place called Galaxy Garrison, a major space travel hub. On her day off, she rented a hoverbike—” Keith glances at Shiro, unsure about explaining the concept, and Shiro nods in understanding “—and took it out into the desert. She was having a wonderful time, flying through canyons and diving over cliffs...and then something in the engine failed and she crashed. She happened to crash near my dad’s house, and he came out to investigate and helped treat her injuries...and you can guess the rest.”

Shiro smiles and dares to give Keith a full and appreciative once-over. “I can, and I can guess that they were both stunning to look at.”

Keith’s skin flushes and Shiro admires the rosy tint. It sparks his hunger, but only a little. With access to the technology of so many civilizations, Shiro hasn’t had to actually physically drink from another being in over a century. He dissolves a tablet into a large glass of water once a week and drinks the resulting synthetic blood. A second pill, taken in advance, allows his digestive system to process other sustenance without damage, which is nice. He missed chocolate.

Having embarrassed Keith with his blatant flirting, Shiro tries to make amends by distracting him. “So what brought you out to Daibazaal?”

Keith’s expression falls a little. “Dad was a first responder, mostly helping with fires and accidents. He was trying to get a driver out of a wrecked vehicle when it exploded. I was two years old. After that Mom decided we’d come stay with her family here. It helped, having her brothers around, and I learned to fly and followed them into the air corps and stuck around. It’s a little lonely now that they’re all gone, but I still consider Daibazaal home. But Mom always made Earth sound like a really interesting place and I remember almost nothing of it.”

Shiro notes Keith’s casual revelation that he has no family. He tells himself it’s not especially important. 

“Earth is interesting. Really notable for the diverse ecosystems. And the way humans hang onto the things that make them individuals… I think it’s the only planet in the Coalition that has more than fifty languages still spoken.”

Keith nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, they still have over five hundred active languages. I think that always threw my mom, that Dad didn’t rely on translators and actually spoke Galactic and languages called English and Spanish.” He looks down and flicks a couple of stray lines onto his screen with the stylus. “How about you? If you grew up there, did you learn multiple languages?”

Shiro takes a sip of his Galran chocolate analog, appreciating its cinnamon-like flavor, while he thinks about what to include in his answer. “My first language was Japanese. I started learning English in school because it’s still the most widely used language on the planet. Galactic came a little later when I started traveling off-planet. And yeah, as a writer I prefer knowing as much of a language as possible. Translators are really helpful for day-to-day ordinary communication, but they still make too many mistakes if you’re relying on nuance.”

Keith considers that and comes down on the side of approval. He sits up, wiping the lazy sketch from his screen. “What are some of the creatures in the stories you’re retelling?”

The rest of the evening, with Shiro describing kitsunes and yokai while Keith eagerly sketches them out, is the birth of their partnership as author and illustrator.

===============================================

The book takes off.

Shiro never expected his idea of a little collection of Japanese myths retold to do more than a few thousand sales back on Earth. He credits its popularity to Keith’s illustrations, taking full advantage of digital formats to do full-color animated pieces that capture the beauty and menace of the creatures that populate the stories.

He’ll also have to retire “Akio Shirayama” as an alias in the future. He’s made a point of never using his birth name in his writing so he can hold onto that link.

But with the book’s sales growing, his publisher is pushing them to do a second volume, choosing more tales to rework and illustrate. And then she proposes that they do some kind of publicity tour. At first Shiro is able to decline by refusing to do anything of the sort without Keith, and Keith has the obligations of his first job.

And then Keith knocks on his door one evening, just after sunset.

“Shiro! Sorry, I know I should have called first, but I just got the decision an hour ago! I got six months’ leave! We can do the book tour now! And there’ll be stops on Earth… Do you think we’ll have a chance to see Texas? And we’ve gotta go to Japan! How long has it been since you—”

Shiro’s thoughts are a buzz of panic. He knows full well that the tour is an impossibility. Even if all the appearances themselves could be scheduled as evening events, his nocturnal life would raise the suspicions of Keith and anyone else who might travel with them. And he’s definitely not ready to tell Keith what he is.

He feels the grief rising already. Keith has become such a good friend, an anchor for Shiro, but he has to stop this now and Keith will almost certainly be angry about it.

“Keith, we can’t,” he interrupts.

Keith’s voice dies and he looks at Shiro, perplexed. “Of course we can! The only thing holding us back was my job, and they’ve agreed that I’ve earned the leave-time!”

Shiro puts his hands on Keith’s shoulders, hoping to calm him, and notices that they’re still in the doorway and that Mr. Slav’s door has opened a crack, a curious eye peering out. He draws Keith inside, propelling him into the front room, and shuts the door.

“Keith, I can’t. I can’t just take off on a whirlwind tour like the publisher is demanding.”

Keith’s brows draw together, his indigo eyes full of confusion. “Why not? You make your living with writing, or that’s what you told me. The whole time we’ve been working on the book you’ve never mentioned any other commitments. So what’s stopping you?”

“I…” Shiro draws a breath and begins the lie he’s only had to use twice before. “I have a condition...a disease. Traveling at the pace that the tour requires is impossible for me.”

Keith’s expression crumples in bewilderment and sorrow. “I didn’t… Why didn’t you ever tell me? We’ve known each other for almost a year.” His eyes flick to Shiro’s prosthesis briefly, trying to connect puzzle pieces.

Shiro shrugs and looks down, unable to meet Keith’s eyes. It’s like he’s feeling Keith’s pain as his own. “I’m sorry. I don’t like talking about it.”

“Are you sure there’s no way we can pull this off? Tell Donnia what you need? Limit the tour length? Space out the appearances so we can go at your pace?” Keith reaches out to take Shiro’s hand.

Shiro pulls back, but not quickly enough to avoid Keith’s touch. The skin-to-skin contact sends a jolt through Shiro’s body that he’s never felt before, and Keith seems to feel something as well.

For a split-second, Shiro is tempted by possibilities. He knows that Keith no longer has any close family living. He knows that he enjoys being with Keith more than anyone in his very long life since he and Allura agreed it was time to live independently from one another. He finds Keith hauntingly beautiful.

But he can’t. He can’t just blow his cover wide open, under pressure like this, when Keith is already in an excited state over the book and tour and all.

“I’m sure, Keith. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He can see the exact second Keith’s bewilderment and hurt turn toward anger. “I can’t believe you never told me about this! I wouldn’t have pushed my supervisors for the fucking leave if I’d known! Why couldn’t you be honest with me?”

Shiro’s own emotions are roiling and he feels resentment as well, though he’s not sure why. Resentful of the situation? At his publisher for forcing the question? He reaches out to lay a hand on Keith’s shoulder again. “I’m sorry, Keith. I’ll understand if you don’t want to do the second book because of this.”

Keith inhales sharply. “You… Stop saying sorry, because I don’t think you are! You’re just sorry that it came out, because if you haven’t said anything in all this time I don’t think you were ever going to! What were you going to do, just wait until it was bad enough that you couldn’t hide it anymore?”

Shiro tries desperately for control, feeling tears build in his eyes. “Keith, please, I wouldn’t—I wasn’t going to—”

Keith knocks his hand away and backs up toward the door. “Send your story drafts through Donnia,” he spits out. “I’ll do the second volume. But don’t try to contact me.” He opens the door and throws back one last venomous comment before leaving.

“Goodbye, Shiro.”

He closes the door and Shiro sinks to his knees, his face in his hands.

=======================================================

Allura arrives three nights later, cutting her stay on Olkarion short. Shiro feels a little guilty about it because he knows from their last communication that things were going well between her and Lance, but her plans are on hold. An Olkari doctor came up with a treatment that has put Lance’s illness into remission and Allura is patiently waiting to see what happens.

He cries on her shoulder. He tells her everything, including his own temptations to at least tell Keith about himself, if not explore the possibility of turning him. He describes the heightened emotions he feels around Keith and just how much it’s hurting him now, knowing Keith is out there and also hurting.

Allura takes it all in. She picks up the hardbound copy of Japanese tales from Shiro’s desk. Donnia had insisted on a small print run with stills of Keith’s art for the cross-marketing potential of appealing to fans of antiquities as well as legends. It’s in its third printing.

Allura turns it over in her hands, looking at the studio headshots of each of them on the back cover. “He’s certainly striking. I can see why you noticed him. And from your messages, it sounded to me like you two really clicked while you were working together on the book.”

“What do I do, Allura? I don’t want to lose him.”

She sets the book down and looks toward his kitchen. “First things first, do you have any difortatril on hand?”

Shiro is confused at the sudden change of topic but gestures vaguely at the cabinet in question.

“Good.” Allura goes over and locates the bottle, shaking out two tablets. “You and I are going to take these and then we are going to the nearest bar and pretend that we can get shit-faced.”

==================================================

An hour later, they’re seated in a booth against the wall of the bar, the high-backed seats offering a little privacy as they drink and continue to talk. They’ve finally hit the crux of the matter: Shiro has known Keith for a decaphoeb and a half, to use the local term, is very attached to Keith, but hasn’t worked up the courage to reveal himself and see what might happen.

And Allura brings up Adam.

Adam was Shiro’s biggest mistake. Shiro had met him on Earth, in the early 20th century. A soldier in World War I, Adam suffered chronic breathing problems from exposure to mustard gas and was weakening slowly. Feeling lonely after Allura began hunting for a new person to turn, Shiro had befriended Adam, finding an intelligent mind and dry wit that charmed him. And then Shiro had fallen in love.

When Adam’s lungs deteriorated to the point of needing round-the-clock monitoring, he was admitted to a sanatorium and Shiro visited every night. Finally, much as Allura had approached him, Shiro offered Adam a way to end his suffering without dying.

Adam had listened and then interrogated Shiro about the process and his existence. Then he had asked the question, “Why me?”

And Shiro had answered honestly, forgetting that he had a century of a most rarefied existence in which to lose his human prejudices. “Because I love you. We could spend eternity together, you and I.”

And that open admission had ended it all. Adam might have come around to accepting the existence of vampires. But he would not entertain the possibility of an “unnatural” relationship. He had sent Shiro away with fury, forbidding all future visits.

Shiro had seen the death notice in the papers a fortnight later. And once he worked through his grief, Shiro had promised himself he would never make that mistake again, that he would be satisfied with the occasional company of Allura or Lotor.

A promise that Allura is working hard to convince Shiro to break.

“We’re centuries beyond that line of thinking, Shiro! We have all the stars at our fingertips and different races mingle freely! Gender is nothing more than a biological marker now! Surely you’d have picked up on it if Keith had such prejudices or was repulsed at the idea of being with you!”

Shiro nods and takes a sip from his glass. He glances up and nearly chokes on his drink.

“Shiro?” Allura’s eyes are wide with concern, wondering if the difortatril has somehow worn off.

He turns away and draws upon his abilities, creating a glamour. The white forelock darkens to blend into the black. The scar across his nose disappears and the sleek prosthetic morphs to match his unscathed arm. Once disguised, he looks across the bar once more.

“Shiro?” Allura lays a hand on his arm. “What is it? Do I need to illusion myself as well?”

Shiro shakes his head. “Keith’s never seen you.”

  
  
“He’s here?” She scans the bar and pauses when she spots him. Her expression softens. “Looks like he’s having the same conversation we are.”

“Can we go?” Shiro asks, trying not to take a second look at Keith. He’s slouched over two empty mugs, working on a third drink, and talking to a large, dark-skinned fellow with a yellow sash tied around his head to keep his hair back.

It still hurts too much.

Allura nods and settles their tab with a tap of her pay-chip against the reader set in the table. As they make their way toward the door, Shiro’s eyes seek one last glimpse…

And meet Keith’s.

Shiro feels the now-normal upsurge of emotion, the muscles tightening in his chest. He follows Allura without breaking his stare.

Keith’s glassy eyes suddenly focus like a laser.

_ Keith recognizes him. _

Shiro tears his gaze away, hurrying after Allura. Behind him he can hear the scrape of a chair, the surprised question coming from his companion. Keith is trying to get up and follow him, calls out an uncertain “Hey, wait!”

He doesn’t understand. He only knows that he and Allura need to get away before there’s a possibility of exposure.

Keith saw through his glamour. How in a thousand hells was that possible?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm throwing credit to lasersheith's delightful ["Beam Me Up, Hottie"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16674931/chapters/39102712) for the idea of Shiro and Keith working together as writer and illustrator.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading!


	3. Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Vampire Sheith Week 2019 Day 3: **Secret**/Invitation

**Shiro, can we talk?**

**Please, can I come over?**

**I overreacted. I realize that now. This isn’t about the book tour. It’s about us. Our friendship.**

**Will you at least let me know you’re there? Please?**

Shiro waits until he has seen Allura off. She’s going back to Olkarion to spend more time with Lance, but insists that Shiro contact her if there’s anything at all she can do. He waits until near sunrise, then responds to Keith’s messages.

**I’m here. I’m sorry for worrying you. And I am sorry for not telling you sooner about my condition. It was just so easy to forget about it when I was with you.**

**I’ll be at the café tonight, if you’re around and want to talk.**

Shiro leaves his apartment for the café the minute it’s dark enough. He’s rehearsing two paths to the conversation: to tell Keith everything or stick to the unnamed disease. He knows full well the first possibility can’t happen in public, but he practices what to say anyway.

Keith is already there, at their usual table.

Shiro approaches slowly. Keith is focused on his tablet, sketching something, but his shoulders are rigid and his jaw is clenched, He’s willing himself not to watch the door, Shiro realizes.

But Keith looks up as if he senses Shiro and the tension drains from him when their eyes meet. Shiro sits across from him, holding his gaze, and slides over a large bar of Keith’s favorite candy, something that tastes kind of like Shiro’s memory of strawberries and cream.

Keith smiles a little, recognizing the gesture. He lays his tablet and stylus down, then reaches across to grasp Shiro’s hands. Shiro feels that jolt again but focuses on Keith’s face.

Keith draws a deep breath and begins. “I want to apologize. Yes, it hurt to learn that there was this big issue in your life that you hadn’t shared with me, but I don’t have any right to expect it of you.”

Shiro squeezes Keith’s hands. “Maybe, but once it became something affecting both of us, with not being able to do the book tour, I should have said so immediately instead of using your work as an excuse.” Shiro looks up into Keith’s relieved face. He takes in the sharp but delicate, almost elfin features. He looks deep into the blue-violet eyes hiding under soft black bangs. And he makes his decision.

“I want to tell you, but not here. I’d rather be in private. Would you… Would you come over tomorrow evening?”

Keith nods. “Sure, Shiro.” He pulls back and picks up the tablet, flicking through files. “I started working on the design for the kappa. Tell me what you think.”

===============================================

Shiro rouses himself before sunset. Keeping the curtains drawn and the windows tinted to their darkest setting, he goes through the apartment and makes sure nothing incriminating is readily visible, just in case he loses his nerve. He sets it all on the top shelf of his closet: the medications and a device from the 21st century that displays a cycle of images. Allura gave it to him when they celebrated his 200th year as a vampire and pre-loaded it with dozens of photographs taken of him over the years. In chronological order, one can see the slow spread of white in his hair—Allura estimates it’ll be another two hundred years before he’s as snow-white as she and Lotor are.

He lingers over the first image. He’s still not sure how Allura got her hands on it, but it’s a photo of a painting, showing his parents and himself in formal Japanese dress. His mother had insisted on them sitting for the portrait before she and Shiro left for England. He wonders, sometimes, what they would think if they saw him now, given that he himself finds those early photos jarring. The Shiro before the terrifying attack that cost him his arm has seemed like a stranger for a very long time.

There’s a knock at his door and Shiro moves to answer it, closing the closet door with the touch of a sensor.

He greets Keith, who moves in to embrace him. Shiro returns it, realizing that despite how close their friendship has become, their physical contact has mostly been a hand on the other’s shoulder or a pat on the back.

It feels good to hug Keith. Shiro tightens his arms around him, savoring Keith’s presence: the warmth that radiates from him, the steady beat of his heart as it pumps the blood that calls gently to Shiro. When Keith draws back, Shiro leads him to sit down.

“I meant what I said, Shiro. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“I want to. I’m just not sure if you’ll believe me.”

Keith frowns. “You said you’re sick. What’s not to believe?”

“It’s not exactly an illness.” Shiro takes a deep breath and continues. “How much do you believe in what gets called the supernatural?”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “You mean Druids’ magic? It’s not actually magic, just people really skilled in manipulating quintessence.”

“More like the beings we included in our book.”

The other eyebrow goes up. “Faeries and demons? Ghosts? No, I don’t buy into that stuff. Especially the ghost thing, since the Galra reincarnate.”

It’s Shiro’s turn to look puzzled. “That’s been documented? There were some cases on Earth that seemed to support the idea, but nothing that you can hang a scientific study on.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of proof when it comes to the Galra. But we’re getting off track.” Keith lays a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “Tell me what it is. I can guess it affects your appetite, since I’ve never seen you eat much. And since I’ve never seen you in daylight even once, you must have a strong sensitivity to sunlight. Is that what would make the tour hard? Not being able to make appearances or travel during the day?”

Shiro just stares at Keith, surprised at his acute observation, before letting himself nod. “That’s the biggest obstacle, yes.”

“And you don’t think Donnia can find a tour coordinator who can work with us?”

“I...kind of assumed. It’s to the publisher’s benefit for us to move fast and keep costs as low as possible.”

“Well, it can’t hurt to ask. Anything else that would be a problem?”

Shiro shakes his head. “That’s the big one. And having a steady supply of the medicines I use.”

Keith spreads his hands, laughter bubbling in his voice. “So is there anything else about this illness? You may be on the pale side because of the sunlight thing, but you certainly stay in shape.”

Shiro draws a deep breath.  _ Now or never. _ He unsheathes his fangs and opens his mouth enough to reveal them before speaking. “I’m a vampire, Keith.”

Keith draws back instinctively at the sight of Shiro’s needle-sharp teeth. Shiro can hear his heartbeat accelerate and quickly continues his explanation.

“I’ve lived for over four hundred decaphoebs, which is over three times longer than an ordinary human. I had to survive on the blood of other beings, until Earth finally made interstellar contact and we found access to blood substitutes.”

Keith is staring at him, looking a little dumbfounded, as Shiro trails off. Finally he huffs in amusement. “Okay. A vampire. Definitely not what I expected. I’ve heard of them, but the Galra don’t have them.”

“That’s true, from what I know,” Shiro agrees. “But a lot of races do have them. It’s definitely an Earth thing, and my sire—the one who turned me from human to vampire—is Altean. Another one is a hybrid, Altean and Galra, but he was mostly raised as an Altean.”

“He’d have to be. I don’t think most Galra would welcome the possibility.”

Shiro’s gut twists at Keith’s flat declaration. “Why not?”

“You said you’ve lived over four hundred decaphoebs? And what, you’re just going to stay in this life forever?”

Shiro nods hesitantly.

“So, I mentioned that the Galra reincarnate. That’s a bit simplistic. Most Galra have soulmates, someone who is a perfect match for you in all ways. And you keep reincarnating, life after life, until you find one another. Once you do, your souls ascend together at death.”

Shiro blinks. “Wow. That’s… I never knew that.”

“It’s not something that we talk about a lot outside of family. I mean, it can take so many lifetimes to find each other, so we still let ourselves feel attraction, mate, raise children. Once two soulmates find one another, there’s a special bonding ceremony to honor the couple. And then they get to live their lives just like anyone else.” Keith’s gaze turns a little dreamy. “The main thing is the bond, and how it lets soulmates feel each other’s presence to such a degree that you can’t help but treat one another with the utmost care. You know when something has happened to hurt the other and you feel the pull to do something about it.”

“That does sound wonderful.”

“It’s not perfect. Some soulmates meet at awkward times in their lives. Some people obsess over finding their soulmate so much that they commit suicide and try to leap to the next life before their time. But most are raised knowing that they may have to wait many lifetimes before they find their mate.”

“And it works for hybrids, too, I presume? Since you’re talking about it like it’s a possibility for you?”

Keith shrugs. “The Galra have visions, usually starting around their tenth decaphoeb, that show them their soulmate. Before then, we have vague recollections of our other lives, usually as dreams. Once we get the first vision, our memories of past lives sharpen. The theory is that it helps us avoid repeating ourselves too much, which may guide us in the right direction to find one another.

“I had the vision of my soulmate. It only happened once, but I know they’re out there, somewhere. I just have to be patient and find them.”

The hopeful light hasn’t left Keith’s eyes. Shiro smiles at how beautiful it makes him, even as his own heart sinks. Keith blinks and frowns in concern. “Shiro?”

“It’s okay. Thank you for telling me. I guess that means you wouldn’t be interested if I told you I like you a lot, enough to want to offer to turn you.”

Keith’s lips twist at one corner with self-deprecation. “Thank you for telling me, too. But yeah, the last thing I’d want is to be frozen in the same lifetime for eons and unable to approach my soulmate if I find them.”

Shiro shoves down his own heartache and tries to find the words to soothe Keith. “I understand. But...can you keep my secret? Can we stay friends?”

“I hope so. After all, if I still have to live the rest of this life,” Keith pauses and gives him a sweet smile, “I think it’d be nice to spend it with you.”


	4. Thrall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Vampire Sheith Week 2019  
Hedonism/**Thrall**

The second volume of Japanese tales spawns a third, and then the publisher pushes them to expand to other cultures, both on Earth and other planets. Over the next few years they do small tours that easily accommodate Shiro’s nocturnal existence. The longest is a stay of three months on Earth, where they visit all the sites Keith has talked about. They celebrate his birthday with a night in the Grand Canyon, riding hoverbikes. For reasons unknown, he becomes enthralled with Canada and Shiro indulges him to make the most of the long winter nights, below-freezing temperatures be damned. It’s possibly the happiest time in Shiro’s life since he became a vampire.

But other than the visit to Earth, they do brief trips, usually lasting only two weeks with four to five appearances. Keith is generally very eager to get back to Daibazaal, even though there’s nothing holding him there now. He resigned from the military after the third book set them firmly on a path of sustained success. Shiro asked him once about it and Keith shrugged. “I thought I saw my soulmate there, the person I remember from my vision. I feel like I’m close to finding them.”

Shiro dropped the subject after that, but continued to let Keith dictate their publicity appearances.

They’re on their way home from a short tour of Taujeer, Keith piloting the small private cruiser that the publishers arranged for them. He navigated them through the wormhole easily and has taken them for a spin around the nearest moon while they wait for the sun to set over the capital. When it’s safe, they enter the atmosphere smoothly and Keith flies the pod toward the landing pads that radiate from the terminal.

But just as Keith brings the craft in, about fifty meters above their designated landing pad, disaster strikes.

The pod tilts sharply to one side, as if one of the hover engines has gone offline. Shiro clings to his seat with his prosthesis, hoping that the chair’s safety mechanism keeps him in place. Keith leans forward, working frantically to fix the problem. Lights flare and the craft seems to be balancing out—

Then the cabin goes dark as the cruiser’s energy system collapses.

Shiro is sliding out of the chair as the pod falls, but hangs on with the strength of his false hand. The jolt is terrific and he feels the impact through his whole body. Glass smashes and metal crumples around them.

Light from the terminal shines into the broken windscreen as Shiro struggles to his knees, assessing. He’s got pain shooting through one side, probably from cracked ribs, and his upper arm and shoulder are throbbing above the prosthesis. He’s been peppered with flying glass. A couple days’ rest and some extra synthetic blood should take care of it all.

He hears a harsh gurgling sound. “Keith? Keith!”

His eyes dart around and he gasps. Keith is in a heap on the floor, between the pilot’s seat and the twisted control panels.

Shiro rolls Keith over, noting the obvious break in one arm and a dozen cuts and scratches, then gasps. A hand-sized piece of glass is embedded in his throat and blood is oozing out. Keith gurgles again and Shiro realizes: the blood is filling his throat. He’ll choke or drown if the glass stays in, but bleed out fast if it’s removed.

“Keith,” Shiro moans, as despair fills him to a degree he hasn’t felt in centuries. He can’t lose Keith now, not like this, not when they’ve had less than a handful of years together.

He can’t lose Keith.

He  _ won’t  _ lose Keith.

Shiro gives in to the fear and desperation, bending over Keith so they aren’t immediately visible, and gently pulls the glass from Keith’s neck. As the blood gushes forth, Shiro leans in and fastens his mouth over the wound, drawing out the killing blood first, and then the rest.

The act of drinking from another feels foreign to him after so long, but every nerve in Shiro’s body is singing with a feeling of  _ right. _ Keith belongs to him, giving him sustenance, but he also belongs to Keith and will give him life.

Keith’s breathing clears, but his heart is pounding harder, seeking liquid that is no longer there. Shiro breaks off and bites into his own wrist. He lets the blood dribble over Keith’s lips, praying to any deity that might be listening to help them.

Keith’s tongue darts out, tasting the blood. Shiro presses his bleeding wrist to Keith’s mouth. “Please, Keith! Drink! Take it! I can’t lose you!”

Keith whines and Shiro can’t tell if it’s pleading or protest. He lifts Keith slightly with his robotic hand and rolls his wrist against Keith’s lips, trying to open his mouth.

“Keith, please! I need you! I… I love you!”

Fluttering eyelashes reveal indigo eyes. Shiro thinks there’s shock in Keith’s gaze, but doesn’t have time to dwell on it as he feels Keith instinctively start to draw blood from Shiro.

Shiro has heard Allura and Lotor describe the process of turning, of watching their chosen bloom, shedding whatever fatal illness had nearly killed them.

Neither of them have turned someone who almost died through catastrophic injury.

As Shiro watches, the torn skin at Keith’s throat seals itself into an angry scar, which fades to a thin line. Another cut down the side of his face heals to a similar state. The broken bones in his arm ripple and fuse together once more. A concavity in his ribs that Shiro had missed rises to its proper level. In a few minutes, Keith is completely healed of his injuries.

Shiro is starting to feel a little dizzy and gently pulls his wrist away. Instinctively Keith darts forward to lick the trails of blood away from Shiro’s skin and the puncture wounds from his own fangs close. Keith gives him a look of surprise, with a dark hint of betrayal, before passing out.

Awareness of the rest of the world returns. Shiro can see emergency lights flickering through the broken windscreen and hear the frantic activity outside as rescuers work to clear the gate area and get to them.

Shiro wipes the remaining blood from Keith’s face and throat with his sleeve, thankful that both of them are wearing dark clothing that won’t immediately show the stains. He lifts Keith into his arms just as the first responders wrench the buckled door open. There are three of them and they stop short when they see Shiro standing there, unhurt, carrying an unconscious Keith.

“Sir, we need to get you to the nearest medbay!”

“Did you see what injuries your friend took?”

Shiro focuses on them, shifting his gaze to meet each of them eye to eye. When he speaks, his voice has an echo behind it. He hates using his thrall, but in this case it’s necessary.

“You found no one in the wreck. It appears to be an automated pod. You will erase the travel data and claim that the unit was damaged beyond repair.”

They answer in chorus, “We found no one in the pod. It appears automated. We can’t retrieve the travel data.” One of them immediately moves to the pilot’s chair and reaches under a panel.

Shiro commands one of them to hand him the two carryalls with his and Keith’s belongings. He shifts his hold on Keith long enough to shoulder the bags, then moves to the door. “You will clean up the blood evidence. You found no one.”

“We found no one.”

Shiro carries Keith from the wreck, bringing up a glamour of a father carrying his sleeping child out of the terminal. Keeping the illusion in place, he summons an automated cab. Once the destination is set, he sits in a passenger seat with Keith in his lap. He tints the windows for privacy and lets the glamour drop. As the cab moves sedately through the streets, he brushes Keith’s hair from his face.

He hopes that Keith will forgive him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Keith! Sorry about the almost-dying.


	5. Eternal Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Vampire Sheith Week 2019
> 
> Day 5: First Feed/**Eternal Life**
> 
> Content warning for this chapter - discussion of suicide

Shiro puts Keith in his own bed after replacing his bloody and torn clothes with sleepwear. He allows himself long enough to shower and change into fresh clothes before returning to sit on the bed. Keith is pale, but his breathing is steady to Shiro’s sensitive ears and his face is relaxed.

Shiro runs his fingers through Keith’s hair, trying to block out the memories of seeing him covered in blood and straining to breathe. He’s not sure what to do. His own memories of waking after being turned are hazy and he mostly remembers Allura providing a steady stream of wild animals for him to drink from as he rested and adjusted to the changes in his body. That had been his plan for Adam, if Adam had accepted his offer.

He doesn’t know if synthetic blood will be enough for Keith in these early days. He thinks he could go to a blood bank in the nearest medical center, thrall any night attendants for the real thing, but he doesn’t want to leave in case Keith wakes up.

He needs backup. He messages Allura.

**Where are you? I think I need some help.**

**Lance and I are on Altea. He wanted to learn some of my family history. What’s wrong?**

**I turned Keith. I’m not sure what to do now. I’m afraid of what will happen when he wakes.**

**Why? And what happened to Keith? He’s always been**

The tablet in Shiro’s hand vibrates as Allura leaves off typing and puts through a vid call. Shiro swallows and answers it.

Her face pops up on the screen, partly concerned and partly accusing. “Shiro, what did you do? You said Keith didn’t want to be turned!” Lance looks over her shoulder curiously.

“We… There was an accident. Our pod crashed. He was dying from his injuries and I panicked. I couldn’t let him die!”

The accusation in Allura’s expression fades. “Oh, Shiro. Are  _ you _ all right?”

“Of course. I drank from Keith, after all.”

Allura nods and looks thoughtful. “What can we do to help?”

“I don’t know what to do. The last time I considered turning someone was centuries ago and I can’t exactly go hunting for rabbits and foxes to feed Keith. Will the synthetic blood work? Is there anything else he’s going to need?” He can feel the panic rising again.

“Calm down, Shiro. It’s going to be all right. Lance and I will come help you. He can hire us a pod and schedule a wormhole while I get a supply of blood.” Lance nods and gets up, putting the plan into motion immediately. Allura spares him a fond look before focusing on Shiro once more. “I don’t think synthetic is a good idea for his first few rounds. How long until sunrise there?”

Shiro checks the time in the corner of the tablet. “About three hours.”

“Not quite enough time. And there’s no use calling Lotor right now; he’s all the way on Arus, of all places. We’ll plan to arrive after sunset tomorrow. If Keith wakes before then, you can let him drink from you a little if you have to. But he probably won’t wake before we arrive.” She leans into the camera. “It’ll be all right, dear heart. We’re on our way.”

====================================================

Allura’s estimate is wrong. Keith stirs not two hours later.

Shiro has been sitting beside him, mindlessly scrolling through news and holding Keith’s hand in his flesh hand. The contact helps steady him. The second he hears his breathing pick up, he puts the tablet aside and leans over Keith. He brushes Keith’s bangs back with a tender gesture.

“Keith? Can you hear me?”

Keith moans in distress. Shiro gathers him in and holds him close, pressing his lips into Keith’s hair. “It’s all right, Keith! I’ve got you!”

Keith twists in his grasp, the vampiric strength already evident, and Shiro tightens his grip. Keith’s breath is coming faster, in harsh jagged gasps, and Shiro realizes what he must be remembering. “You’re okay, Keith! You can breathe! Slowly, in and out, for me?”

Keith’s eyes flutter open and Shiro sees the distress in them. He remembers his own experience, waking up to his heightened senses, light and sound and smell all overwhelming. He dims the lamp in the room with a wave of one hand and lowers his voice. “Steady, Keith. It’s gonna be okay.”

Keith blinks and swallows with a grimace. His awareness sharpens and his eyes dart around the room. “Shiro?”

“I’m here, Keith. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

But just speaking Shiro’s name is enough. Keith’s hand flies to his mouth, feeling where his canines are already sharper than before. In a few weeks their roots will have changed into shafts, letting him extend his fangs when needed. He vaults off the bed, backing away from Shiro with growing horror. He lifts his hands, staring at them with his sharpened eyesight, seeing the lack of a pulse in his wrists.

“What did you do?  _ What did you do?” _

“Keith, I—”

“Why did you do this? I told you! I told you I didn’t want to be frozen in some kind of eternal life!”

Keith’s anguish is ripping Shiro to shreds, but he forces the words out. “I didn’t want you to die! Not so soon!”

“I… you had no right! You knew I didn’t want this!”

“So I was supposed to stand back and let you die?”

“That’s how life goes, Shiro! We’re born, we live, we die!”

Shiro shakes his head slowly, trying to think through the pain he’s feeling. “No, not yet. Not when I could save you.”

“But I can’t find my soulmate like this! I saw him, here in the city, a few years ago! We’re close enough in age! And now…” Keith drags his hands through his hair. “I can’t even think of approaching him like this!”

“Why not? You and I were friends for over a decaphoeb before I told you what I was.”

“Because I can’t die now! We can’t ascend to the next plane together!”

The spark of anger in Shiro cuts through his grief. “What made you think we can’t die?”

His sharp tone jolts Keith, who looks up as he processes the words. “You said… You’ve lived over four hundred decaphoebs. And the one who turned you is around a thousand decaphoebs old…”

“We don’t age. We don’t get sick. But we can be poisoned. Most suns will kill us.” Shiro holds up his prosthetic hand, showing the sleek blend of alloys and polymer that the Olkari built for him a few decades ago. “And we can die by violence.”

Keith is staring at him, eyes wide. Shiro feels his balance returning, just a little.

“This happened because someone discovered what I was and assumed I was killing others, killing innocent people. He set a trap, tried to burn me alive inside an abandoned building. I survived, obviously, but I had to punch my way through a plate glass window to do it. It collapsed, sending huge shards of glass down like a guillotine. My arm sustained too much damage and it was too long before Allura found me and was able to get some blood for me. I couldn’t fully heal and we had to find a trustworthy doctor who could amputate it safely.” Shiro traces the scar that cuts across his nose. “That’s also when this happened.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith whispers. He twitches just a little closer to Shiro, as if he wants to touch but fears rejection.

Shiro solves his problem and reaches out, drawing him in to hold him close. He presses his cheek to Keith’s hair, noting how his scent is acquiring that chilly edge as his body is changing.

“You can choose to end this, whenever you need to. There are so many vampires who choose to die. Some found they couldn’t bear living off blood, back when we didn’t have our current options. Some couldn’t handle the grief as all their loved ones died. Some couldn’t withstand the passing of time and how things changed.” Shiro grimaced. “The 21st century in particular was hard. Technology on Earth advanced at such a fast rate. And then they met their first aliens and things changed even faster.” He loosens his hold on Keith, enough to let him lean back and look him in the face. “If I hadn’t had Allura, I might have chosen to stop then.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t. And I’m glad I didn’t. I’ve met a lot of wonderful people in my time, seen so many beautiful places. I’m still happy with my life.” Shiro tucks a heavy lock of Keith’s hair behind his ear. “I’m happy I stuck around long enough to meet you.”

Keith starts in surprise at the declaration. “Me?”

“I’ve never felt this close, this attached to anyone in centuries. You’re special, Keith.”

Keith gulps, visibly moved. “And there are ways to end it? Are they all violent?”

Shiro shakes his head. “There are peaceful ways. Certain sedatives are strong enough that one sleeps deeply enough not to feel it when the sun turns the body to ash.” He touches his forehead to Keith’s. “You could stay, living this life until you find your soulmate. If they’re too young, you could wait to reveal yourself. You could spend his adulthood together, then join him in his natural death. Wouldn’t that trigger your ascending together?”

“It might,” Keith whispers.

“Can you give it a little time? Long enough to consider your options?” Shiro smooths Keith’s hair back from his face and draws a deep breath before he dares to ask the question. “Maybe long enough to forgive me?”

Keith contemplates for a moment, then nods and buries his face in Shiro’s shoulder. The tension between them begins to dissipate and fatigue crashes in. Shiro leads them back to the bed, pulling Keith down to lie beside him. They won’t be able to stay awake for long once the sun rises.

“Do I… do I have to drink? Do I have to go find someone and figure out whether they deserve to die?”

“No, just rest. I’ve got help coming. We’ll take care of you.”


	6. Blood Bank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Vampire Sheith Week 2019
> 
> Day 6: Hunt/**Blood Bank**

Allura and Lance arrive the following evening, a little after full sunset. Keith is still asleep. Shiro’s been trying not to hover, telling himself over and over that Keith will be very nocturnal at first. He’s grateful for the distraction as he ushers Allura and Lance inside, with a reluctant wave at Mr. Slav when he looks out his own door.

Allura sets an insulated carrier on the kitchen counter and opens it, stowing the containers of blood in the refrigerator with brisk efficiency. Lance brings in their bags and looks around inquiringly. He and Shiro have met a few times since Allura turned him, but this is his first visit to Shiro’s home.

Allura finishes her task, holding onto one container. “Is Keith in your room?”

Shiro nods. “He’s still asleep.”

“I would expect so. That means you’re on the sofa in here and Lance and I will need to arrange a hotel room?”

“No, you two can convert the sofa and sleep here.”

Allura’s ears twitch in surprise and Shiro’s scattered thoughts focus on remembering the first time she fully dropped her glamour for him.

“I thought he’d be angry with you.”

“He was. He is. But we talked last night when he woke up. It’s not fixed yet, not by a longshot, but at least he’s not going to go charging out into the sun today.”

Allura lays a hand on Shiro’s cheek. “That’s a good start.” She glances over his shoulder at Lance. “Here, let’s put our things away. If Keith’s not awake when we’re done, Shiro can take you to the nearest blood bank. We should probably fill the fridge completely now and again when we leave. By then Keith ought to be able to start transferring over to synthetic.” She looks back at Shiro. “It’ll give Lance an opportunity to practice without me standing over him. His glamours are excellent but he needs to work on the thrall a bit more.”

Lance lets out a huff and Allura rolls her eyes. “He  _ really _ doesn’t like the idea of the thrall.”

“It’s cheating,” Lance insists as he fishes a bag for toiletries from his suitcase. It’s bigger than Shiro’s head.

“It’s necessary. Tell him, Shiro.”

Shiro feels a spark of amusement and realizes just how tense the last thirty-six hours have been. He’d love to tease Allura by siding with Lance—especially since he agrees that the thrall is cheating—but understands that he needs to reinforce the lesson.

“Yes, it is cheating since most other life forms don’t have any defenses against it.” Before Lance can crow and Allura can protest, he holds up a hand. “But it’s also necessary at times in order to continue keeping our existence a secret. I wouldn’t have been able to get Keith out of the travel port the other night without it.”

Lance’s expression shifts from mulish to thoughtful. Perhaps Allura hasn’t emphasized that aspect enough, of when an emergency happens. As far as Shiro knows, her last close call happened well before her three hundredth birthday.

At any rate, getting out of the apartment appeals to Shiro, even though he really doesn’t want to leave Keith’s side. “Let me check on him, see if he’s awake.”

Allura stops him with a hand on his arm. “Shiro, I’ve seen over a dozen new vampires through their first nights. You two need just a little distance from one another. You go with Lance. I’ll take care of Keith.”

=========================================

This is the first time Shiro has spent more than a couple hours in Lance’s company and he decides that he likes Lance. Lance will be good for Allura and Shiro can see him sticking around for a long time.

They go to the medical center, glamoured as first responders, and Lance shows his talent for thievery by stealing a pair of ID badges. Lance is patronizing over the fact that the center still uses badges instead of biological markers, and Shiro tells him not to turn down luck. Daibazaal’s capital is host to so many different alien species that the center can’t afford a system that would need hundreds of specifications. Not every species has something as simple as individualized fingerprints.

When they find the night guard, Shiro lets Lance try out his thrall on the man. But Lance falters and Shiro has to step in and order the man to take a break and forget that he ever saw them. Lance grumbles as they enter the storage area and start taking containers, careful to shuffle the remaining supply to hide the gaps. Shiro is sealing the carrier when a woman in nursing attire rounds a corner.

“What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

Lance gives a jaunty salute, then waves a hand at Shiro and the carrier. “We’re just finishing up here. There was a big accident on the other side of town and we were asked to fetch some blood from your stores since you were on our route. Documentation is in the system.”

She shakes her head. “Not my job. I’m just here for some Galran Derivative 4 for a surgery.”

Lance makes a show of escorting her to the proper shelf. “I hope the surgery goes well…” He pauses with a flirty expression, looking her up and down until he sees her badge. “Nyma. You’ll be a beautiful face for the patient to wake up to.”

Her cheeks take on a darker hue. “Thanks. Get your supply and get out of here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lance chirps and leads Shiro out of the center.

Once they’re safely in an automated cab, Shiro looks over at Lance. “I really don’t understand why you dislike the thrall.”

“I told you, it’s cheating.”

“And yet you sweet-talked that nurse without hesitation. That’s really all the thrall is, a guarantee that someone will believe your lies. It’s like rolling a natural twenty on your charisma check.”

Lance does a double-take. “Did you just reference  _ Monsters and Mana? _ How can you be a vampire and that much of a geek?”

Shiro laughs. “Remind me to tell you about an old Earth game called  _ Vampire the Masquerade _ sometime.”

=================================================

They enter Shiro’s apartment very quietly so as not to alert Mr. Slav of their presence. Allura and Keith are watching a program together. Keith’s color is a bit paler than it was before the accident and the light purple marks that curve up his face from his neck stand out a bit more. He’s swathed in a pair of blankets on the sofa.

Alarmed, Shiro dumps the carrier on Lance. “Is everything all right?”

Keith’s jaw tightens, but he nods. Allura gets up from the cushy armchair as she answers. “Yes, I believe so. Keith’s having to adjust to his new core body temperature. It’s probably a Galra thing—I haven’t met a vampire with strong Galra heritage since Lotor and I wasn’t there when he was turned. A few more days with plenty of blood on hand should see him stabilize.”

She goes to Lance and pulls him into the kitchen to store the blood, giving Shiro and Keith a little privacy. Shiro starts for the chair, but Keith shifts to make room for him on the sofa.

Shiro does, reaching out hesitantly to lay a hand on Keith’s leg. He can see Keith will himself not to withdraw, and he makes no further move. “How are you feeling?”

“Cold, except when I drink someth...when I drink some blood. Allura thinks it’ll go away soon, but if it doesn’t she says I can probably start taking that diforta stuff in about a month and try hot drinks or soups to keep my temperature up. And staying somewhere warm may help, too. We’re still in winter here.”

Shiro nods.

After a few minutes, Keith looks over at him. “I’m not ready to forgive you yet. But Allura told me some things. How I’m only the second person you ever wanted to turn and how alone you’ve been except for her. And I thought about how I reacted when I saw Uncle Thace die. His death hurt worse than anyone else’s, because it wasn’t illness, it was a robbery and he was in the wrong place when they started shooting. And I couldn’t stop thinking about whether I could have prevented it. If I’d had the ability to save him in that moment, I would have, without a second thought.”

Keith pauses and takes a deep breath. “I heard you, you know. I heard what you said. And if this hadn't happened, you were willing to stay with me for my natural life and support me looking for my soulmate.” He reaches out a hand. “I care about you, Shiro. A lot. And if you were willing to make those compromises for me, I reckon I need to try and meet you halfway.”

Shiro can’t take it anymore, feeling just how much turmoil Keith is in. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, I swear. If we find your soulmate I’ll help you, whatever decision you make.”

Keith sticks one hand out from beneath his blankets and lays it over Shiro’s. “I know, Shiro. I know.”

Allura breezes back into the room, Lance trailing behind her. She hands Keith an insulated mug. “Here, I found this in the cupboard. Maybe it’ll keep the blood warm enough that you don’t have to gulp it down.”

Shiro grimaces at the thought of cold blood, but he’s amused at Allura’s solution. It never occurred to him to try and drink blood from the mug he uses when he wants the taste of hot chocolate.

Keith sits up, shrugging the blankets off his shoulders as he warms up. “That helps, thanks.” He glances over at Lance. “So, who are you?”


	7. Soulbond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Vampire Sheith Week 2019
> 
> Day 7: **Soulbond**/Insatiable Thirst

In the weeks since Shiro turned Keith, they settle into a new routine. They move Keith’s things to Shiro’s apartment since his is the bigger of the two. They start visiting their café again once Keith is able to use the difortatril and drink his favorite juniberry tea without issue. They take long moonlit walks when the weather cooperates. They try sleeping separately through the days, but more than half the time Shiro wakes enough to move to lie beside Keith without being completely aware of it. Keith puts up with it with some grace, especially after the evening where he wakes in Shiro’s bed, spooning him, with no memory of how he got there.

In a grasp for something normal, Keith throws himself into researching creatures from the legends of Altea for their next collection. It’s a welcome distraction and also has the bonus of Keith and Allura communicating regularly as he picks her brain about tales that were ancient even in her childhood. Shiro is more than willing to let Allura be Keith’s mentor, since she has both the experience and the distance to explain things clearly without getting overly emotional.

Shiro assumes Allura learned the value of a bit of dispassion over time. He doesn’t remember her showing affection toward him at the same level he feels for Keith. And yet she always had a knack for knowing just what he needed, the way he tends to know when Keith’s feeling hungry or tired or off. He makes a mental note to ask her sometime about the first vampires she turned.

Tonight Keith is nervous. He’s been in communication with a friend from his old job through messaging but has finally agreed to meet up tonight at a favorite bar. Shiro’s tense as well: worrying about Keith’s safety, about his physical state as he tries alcohol for the first time as a vampire, about his mental state once he reconnects with the friend from his previous life. Shiro fully expects Keith to be moody or upset later, reminded of the opportunities that are closed off to him now.

Keith has given his okay for Shiro to be in the bar but at a separate table rather than with him. Shiro nurses a glass of Krellian wine, waiting for Keith to come in. He’s already spotted Keith’s friend, the same human who Keith drowned his sorrows with after his first big fight with Shiro.

Keith comes to the table and the other guy jumps to his feet to catch Keith in a bear hug.

“Hunk, put me down!”

“Dude, I can’t! I haven’t seen you in ages. You’ve been so busy with the book stuff and tours, you’re all famous now, and you said you’d been sick! Why didn’t you let me know? I could have made my mom’s chicken soup and brought it over!” He peers closely at Keith. “You still look a little peaky.”

They sit and Keith shakes his head. “It’s okay, Shiro had it handled.”

“Shiro? That’s your writing partner, right?”

Shiro can’t see Keith’s face, but his posture shifts as he ducks his head.

Hunk picks up on it immediately. “Oh, are you two like a personal partnership, too? Got a workplace romance going?” He winks as he raises a hand to get a server’s attention.

“Hunk!”

He laughs in delight and claps his hands. “Dude, I’m so happy for you! Is it going okay? You two still able to work together?”

Keith nods but welcomes the interruption as a server takes their drink orders. He keeps the conversation focused on Hunk for several minutes, asking about the latest advances in some kind of fighter jet. Shiro relaxes as he sees Keith relax, the tension leaving his shoulders and his voice growing lighter.

And then Hunk turns the conversation back around. “So, if you and this Shiro guy are an item, does that mean you’ve stopped worrying about seeing your soulmate that one time?”

The shock jolts Shiro through his whole body and he nearly knocks his glass over.

Keith flings himself back from Hunk, broadcasting pain and guilt. Hunk holds out his hands, palms down, in an attempt to soothe. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry I asked. But I know how important it was to you… You were all in knots before because you were developing feelings for some guy but he was lying to you…”

Keith stands. “I’m sorry, too, but I can’t talk about this right now. I gotta go. I’ll message you later.”

Hunk looks miserable and his arms twitch, obviously wanting to hug Keith again, but Keith slaps his pay-chip against the reader to settle their tab and takes off.

==================================================

Shiro arrives back at the apartment to find it empty. He had assumed Keith would return here as well and hadn’t followed him. He grabs his tablet and types out a message.

**Where are you? Are you all right?**

When there’s no reply after several minutes, Shiro tries again.

**Just let me know you’re safe? Please? If you need some time, it’s yours. I just need to know you’re okay.**

After a pause long enough to let Shiro’s worry grow to near panic, there’s a reply.

**I’m not hurt.**

And Shiro gets the message clearly. Keith is physically unhurt and presumably safe, but dealing with an emotional turmoil he had buried.

**Okay. I’m home. I’ll be here when you’re ready to come back and if you need me I’ll come to you. I’ll do whatever it takes for you.**

There’s another long pause.

**I know.**

================================

It doesn’t help when a rainstorm blows in, stoking Shiro’s anxiety. He tries to distract himself with a cleaning frenzy. He pulls the cleaning equipment out and focuses on getting every last speck of dust and dirt out of an already tidy space.

Hours later, Shiro’s starting to worry about the time. He’s wiping down the kitchen counters after scrubbing them when he hears the door open. He dashes around the corner to see Keith, soaked and shivering from the rain.

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro murmurs gratefully and starts forward. “You’re drenched. Let’s get you dry.”

He leads Keith into the bedroom, nudging the temperature controls up several degrees. He reaches into the closet for the biggest towels, dislodging something from the shelf in the process. He ignores the thud of it hitting the floor in favor of helping Keith.

Keith strips off his wet clothes and Shiro is alarmed at how pale he is. He wraps one towel around Keith and scrubs his skin. Keith is still shaking and Shiro fetches his bathrobe for Keith to put on and shoves the second towel into his hands.

“I’m going to heat up some blood for you. We still have a bit of the real thing left. That’s the fastest way to get you warm.”

Keith nods and starts squeezing the water from his hair. Shiro flies through the kitchen, opening one of the few containers in the fridge and heating it to steaming before pouring some in an insulated mug. He carries it back into the bedroom and halts.

Keith is sitting on the bed, staring at a tablet-shaped device in his hands. Shiro realizes it’s his photo collection. He and his parents look solemnly out of the frame.

“Keith?”

Keith’s head snaps up and Shiro falls into a maelstrom of emotions so tangled that he staggers and nearly drops the mug. He manages to set it aside without spilling it and comes to sit beside Keith.

“Who...who is this?”

Shiro looks down. The painting is a little stylized, the artist making all three of them a bit thinner in the face and emphasizing the angle of their eyes. Shiro’s hair is painted away from his face instead of falling over his forehead.

“That’s me and my parents. Allura tracked down the painting and photographed it for me.”

Keith is stunned, looking from the portrait to him and back.

“Keith? What’s the matter?”

Keith’s expression hardens and he puts the album aside. “Show me. Show me what you looked like before you became a vampire.”

Shiro is confused at both the demand and Keith’s level of intensity, but complies. He closes his eyes and concentrates: he feels the slight shifts in his body as it develops uniformly dark hair, an unmarked face, a golden hue to his skin.

Keith makes a strangled gasp and Shiro’s eyes fly open. “Keith?”

“Have you ever used this glamour where I could see it? I don’t care why right now, I just need to know.”

“Once.” Shiro thinks back to that night in the bar. “Just after I tried to tell you I couldn’t do the book tours because I had a disease. I was unloading it all on Allura in a bar and saw you talking to your friend. I wanted to leave without you seeing me, but you recognized me anyway. If you’d been sober enough you probably would have chased me.”

“I did try to chase you,” Keith whispers. “But it wasn’t because I recognized  _ you. _ It was because I’d finally seen my soulmate.”

Shiro stares, unable to form any coherent thoughts. Keith reaches up and lays a hand on Shiro’s cheek.

“I’ve been so torn ever since, knowing my soulmate was out there, maybe nearby. I was afraid I’d never be able to find him since he didn’t appear to be full or even half-Galra. And my feelings for you were so strong. It felt like I was betraying my soulmate, and something in myself.” Keith leans forward a little. “But now I understand. It’s you, Shiro. It’s you. I should have been listening to my feelings more instead of relying on my eyes.”

Shiro feels the upswell of joy and rides it like a cresting wave. He’s smiling, then laughing and pulling Keith into his arms. He lets go of the glamour and Keith seizes his face, planting his lips on Shiro’s and knocking them both flat on the bed.

They start kissing, slowly and carefully. It’s been decades since Shiro has kissed anyone on the mouth and it’s Keith’s first time dealing with fangs even if they aren’t fully developed. As they learn each other’s rhythm, reveling in one another’s blissful emotions, Shiro rolls them over and pins Keith beneath him, one hand reaching for the belt of the robe—

There’s a knock at the door.

Shiro groans and gets up to answer the door, a frustrated expression on his face. He opens it to find Mr. Slav standing in the hallway, the top two sets of stubby arms cradling a large bouquet of flowers.

“Good evening! There was a ninety-seven-point-four percent chance that by this time this evening you and your soulmate would have found one another. I brought you this token to mark the occasion. If my estimates are off and you have not yet confessed to one another, please use the flowers as part of your revelation. And if in fact we are in the zero-point-six percent range in which you are not soulmates, please accept them as my apology for the error.” The Bitor narrows his eyes under his thick brows, studying Shiro’s open mouth.

“I see that I was correct to choose flowers instead of candy, as this is one of the realities in which you are a vampire. This reality will be much more pleasant than the ones where you are a space explorer. And you don’t even want to think about a few of the ones where you become a Paladin of Voltron.”

Shiro hears Keith come up behind him. Mr. Slav nods at him, drops the flowers into Shiro’s unresisting hands, and crosses back to his own door. “I hope this is one of the realities where you have a very long and happy life together!”

==================================================

Ordinarily, vampires don’t celebrate the day they were turned, except for the major milestones. It was twenty-five years before Allura formally honored Shiro’s anniversary. So it feels unusual to have everyone gathered in a small banquet room of a hotel in Kyoto: Allura and Lance, Lotor and his recently-turned companion Axca, Mr. Slav and Keith’s friend Hunk with his plus-one, a chattering sparrow of a girl named Pidge. She seems familiar, but Shiro hasn’t placed her yet.

She’s the reason Keith hasn’t told Hunk about his transformation yet, because, if they get serious about one another, Keith doesn’t want to force Hunk into keeping a secret from her. But everyone has taken their doses of difortatril and can fully partake of the combination of traditional Japanese fare, Galran dishes, and the white frosted cake.

They’re here to witness as Shiro and Keith formally bond as soulmates, one year since they discovered each other’s identity.

Normally a Galra soul-bond ceremony would have a Galra priest to oversee, but since Keith is half-Galra and Shiro is human, they’ve compromised by sharing the ritual with a Shinto priest, one who happens to be a descendant of Shiro’s bloodline. Ryou Shirogane has no idea that Akio Shirayama is his many-times-removed uncle but simply feels honored that this couple has asked him to lead the ceremony.

Allura taps a glass with a spoon to get everyone’s attention, then gestures with a wide, happy smile. “If everyone will take their places, we can begin.”

Shiro and Keith take their places in front of Ryou, clasping hands, while the others come forward to form a half-circle behind them. Ryou clears his throat and begins reading the traditional words: “We are here to bless a union, a joining of two souls in a bond that will last through eternity…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
